


A Quiet Night In

by papersky_pencilstars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, infinity war didn't happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papersky_pencilstars/pseuds/papersky_pencilstars
Summary: a little drabble I wrote off the prompt 'accidentally falling asleep together' on tumblr. Bucky muses on the meaning of 'home'
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	A Quiet Night In

“Hey, watcha reading?,” The question is almost stifled by the yawn threatening to unhinge Steve’s jaw.

Bucky waves at him distractedly, still engrossed in the book he’s holding open with his metal hand. “I dunno, some kind of historical romance, I think. There was a stack of them on the bench by the park on the way home.” He turns another page, the paper is worn soft and burnished to a muted yellow, and there are grease stains in the margins as if it’s been read while eating. It’s obviously well loved, the front cover is torn and almost falling off, and he has to hold it carefully to prevent a couple of loose pages from coming free.

Steve laughs, “I didn’t know you liked bodice-rippers.”

“It’s going to rain tonight,” Bucky says, refusing to be baited, “and it’s not a bodice-ripper, Steve. It’s about family bonds and home - coming home, finding home. You’d like it if you gave it a chance. Here-” he pats the cushion beside him, “you can read over my shoulder, you were always faster than me anyway.”

“You sure?” Steve asks, because some days are alright for being close and some are most definitely not, and it’s Steve so of course he always makes sure.

Bucky nods, “Get the blanket.” It takes them a bit to shuffle around into a comfortable position. The sofa groans dangerously under the weight shift, perhaps buying the cheapest option at Ikea wasn’t the greatest idea for two super soldiers.

Eventually they get settled, Bucky squished comfortably into the sofa arm by Steve’s weight pressing in to his side. Soon, they’re both engrossed in the story. Steve’s not a quiet reader, he’ll snort and shake his head at any line he finds funny, and occasionally he’ll tap on a passage he wants Bucky to pay attention to. At one point Bucky reaches up and his pulls Steve’s head down so it rests on his shoulder. It’s not a steamy or even a romantic scene, it’s just describing a family birthday party. Multiple generations of cousins, nieces and nephews, old friends and a few new ones embraced and folded in to their shared happiness.

There’s a catch in Bucky’s throat as he reads, he thinks of Natasha and Sam, laughing and teasing each other as Steve tries to make pancakes in the morning, and further back, to huddling in a foxhole with Gabe and Morita, talking softly to stay awake. And he remembers, even further in the dim corners of his memory, a small Brooklyn flat with people he can’t see the faces of, but he knows he loves, and Steve much shorter and skinnier than he is now leaned up against him just like he is now. He taps the paragraph he’s reading, about how a home is built gradually out of everyday happiness and shared sorrows, and feels Steve nod against his collarbone. This is their home and the family they found will always have a place here where they are safe and loved. He likes the idea of a place becoming permeated with mutual affection so you can feel it even when the original people are gone.

Maybe years from now this dingy apartment will still be standing and some new group of broken, lonely people will find it and make it into their own little haven. It’s good to think about that, about getting better and building yourself a future. It’s a couple more minutes before he realizes that Steve is no longer reading, his breathing slow and steady with sleep. Bucky sets the book in his lap, his finger keeping his place. He doesn’t realize he too is slowly nodding off, not until his head droops forward, cheek resting against the top of Steve’s head.


End file.
